Darkness
by AzureSkye23
Summary: Annatar makes one small slip, and Celebrimbor is no fool. Now the Maia finds himself in the Darkness he thought that he had escaped.


**So, when I asked Crackers what she wanted for her birthday she said, Sauron and Noldor and Dark stuff. Soo...I don't think this is really what she was talking about, but this is what my muse came up with. So no judging. ;)**

* * *

It was only a small slip. Celebrimbor had entered with an abrupt crash, and on the startled glance up, the Maia had lost control of his eyes, and for a split second, they had flared their natural, brilliant gold. Celebrimbor was no fool, and before the Maia was really aware of what was going on, he was pinned against the wall, the Elf's hands puling down the high collar of his shirt, revealing scars that he couldn't quite make go away, no matter how hard he tried.

"Sauron," Celebrimbor spat, making the detested name sound like a curse. A blow to his temple with a closed fist followed quickly, and the Maia's world exploded in light and color, then spun once again down into darkness.

* * *

Sauron didn't look up as he heard footsteps approaching his make-shift cell. He lay huddled in a corner, his ruined right hand clutched close to his chest. He had shifted back to his own accustomed form at some point, more comfortable in the skin he considered his own, as well as hoping somewhere in the back of his mind that the sight of his terrible scars would stir some small amount of pity in his captors. It didn't.

"There, you see?" Celebrimbor spoke as he entered the room. "It can be no other."

"That certainly is Sauron," Gil-galad agreed in a dry voice. The Maia would have closed his eyes in despair if he hadn't already been there.

"Well," Gil-galad continued briskly. "I'll take him off your hands for you."

"What?" Celebrimbor asked in confusion.

"I'm taking him back to Lindon," Gil-galad said slowly, as if he were talking to a child or someone who couldn't quite understand.

"Ah," Celebrimbor started.

"Do you have a problem with that?" Gil-galad asked, pleasantly, but with more than a hint of steel.

"No," Celebrimbor said through clenched teeth.

"Good," Gil-galad responded. "Keys."

"Keys?" Celebrimbor echoed.

"Yes, keys," Gil-galad snapped. "I can hardly take him to Lindon when he's chained to your wall." Metal jangled as Celebrimbor slapped the keys into Gil-galad's hands, and stalked out of the room, footsteps quick and irritated. The other Elf gone, Gil-galad started towards Sauron. The Maia cowered backwards, pride destroyed over the last—he didn't even know how long it had been since this nightmare began. He whimpered in pain as broken ribs protested the movement.

"Shh," Gil-galad soothed. "It's alright. I'm going to get you out of here." He knelt beside Sauron and began to test the keys to find the one that would release the Maia.

"Ai, Elbereth, but you're a mess," Gil-galad sighed as he unchained the Maia's ankles and turned his attention to his wrists—especially the ruined right hand that Sauron cradled close. He was able to pull the Maia's left hand a few inches away from his body and unchain it, but when he attempted to do the same with the right, Sauron whimpered again and shied away.

"I know, you don't want me to touch it," Gil-galad murmured. "But I have to get you unchained if I'm going to get you out of here." Finally, the Maia allowed the Elf to pull his hand away from his chest and unchain it, though he whimpered pitifully the whole time.

"There you go," Gil-galad whispered, replacing the ruined remains of the Maia's hand back on his chest. "I won't touch it again." The Elf sighed again as he looked the Maia over.

"I'm going to have to carry you, there is no way you will be able to walk out of here by yourself," Gil-galad said. "It will hurt, but once we're out, Elrond will be able to give you something for the pain." He carefully pulled the Maia into his arms, lifting the too-slender form without undue difficulty despite Sauron's height.

"I'm sorry, I know it hurts," Gil-galad soothed as Sauron cried out in pain at the movement. The Elf quickly navigated the echoing hallways, and headed outside, Sauron blinking once as Anar's warmth touched his face.

"Sweet Valar, he's a mess," Glorfindel murmured, keeping his voice low.

"I know," Gil-galad responded, matching his tone. "I was stunned when I walked into that dark little room they were keeping him in—Elrond, what is the matter?"

"He was kept in the dark?" the Peredhel questioned. "But he didn't react like that when you brought him outside..." A pregnant pause followed, broken by an audible gasp from all three Elves.

"He's blind," Elrond said flatly. Sauron closed his useless eyes, finding that hearing what he had known to be true for some time now somehow made the now inescapable darkness all the deeper.

* * *

The dark haired Maia sighed as he quietly stood from where he had been sitting on the bed, carefully counting the steps to the door. The trip to Lindon was mostly lost in a drug induced hazed of pain and confusion, but now he was mostly healed; all except his right hand and the persistent blindness, both of which had proven beyond Elrond's skill to heal.

Carefully Sauron trailed the fingers of his left hand over the smooth stone wall as he traveled down the corridor. He had this route perfectly memorized. Most of it wasn't too difficult: he could keep his left hand on the wall. There was only one right turn. When he reached it, Sauron carefully oriented himself the correct way, counting his steps across the corridor, left hand brushing the corner before making a ninety degree turn and counting his way across to the other wall. Once his fingers touched that wall he was off to his destination: a deep set window big enough to sit in. His fingers found the edge and he pulled himself into it with surprising grace, considering he could only use one hand.

Sauron smiled slightly as the smell of the salty waves mixed with the sound of the gulls and the warmth of Anar. Those sensations were the only proof he had that the Darkness had not truly swallowed the world as it appeared to him. He gently traced the window casing. It was always left open for him now, after he'd nearly fallen out and died the one time he'd tried to open it himself. Soft footsteps approached him, slightly heavier than usual for an Elf.

"There you are," Elrond said gently, and Sauron silently congratulated himself for correctly identifying them. Carefully Elrond pulled himself up into the window as well, sitting down and reaching out to stroke the Maia's dark hair. Sauron didn't react. Two more sets of footsteps approached and Sauron frowned mentally. Overlapping as they were, he couldn't quite tell who they belonged to...

"How is he?" Gil-galad asked softly. Elrond sighed.

"No change," he said. "If he were an Elf, I'd say he was fading. Can Maiar fade?"

"Not that I know of," Glorfindel answered. "But then, I don't know everything there is to know about Maiar."

"Just more than the rest of us," Gil-galad responded good-humoredly. "Though he has taken interest in at least one thing—he really likes this window."

"There is generally a breeze off the sea here," Elrond said quietly.

"Maybe we should take him to the beach," Glorfindel proposed. Gil-galad laughed.

"Why not?" he said. "I haven't been to the beach in far too long."

"Did you not go two weeks ago?" Glorfindel asked in amusement.

"Far too long," Gil-galad agreed. "What do you say, Sauron? Would you like to go to the beach?" It was half meant in jest, but Sauron slid out of the window and stood up, Elrond moving out of his way as he did so.

"I guess we're going to the beach," Gil-galad said, a gentle note in his voice. He carefully took the Maia's undamaged left hand, and the four set off.

Once at the beach, instead of allowing the Elves to lead him down to the line of surf, Sauron sat down and buried his left hand in the warm, loose sand. He tipped his face to the sun and smiled, all the sensations he had enjoyed from the window more present here. Seeing that, Elrond sat beside him, and Glorfindel and Gil-galad headed down to the sea, arguing playfully. Sauron stayed as he was until someone came and stood in front of him, blocking the sun. He frowned.

"I do not think he likes you blocking his sun, Círdan," Elrond said in amusement.

"I think you are right, penneth," Círdan responded. Sauron shivered slightly as the Elf placed well calloused hands along his jawbones, gently cradling his face.

"Such bright eyes," Círdan mused. "But they should be far brighter."

"I don't know what to do, Círdan," Elrond admitted. " He won't speak, he barely eats... I cannot heal his eyes or his hand. If he were an Elf, I'd send him west."

"He could sail west," Círdan said quietly after a short pause. Sauron shook his head violently, dislodging the Elf's hands. The old Elf sighed, and sat down beside the Maia.

"I know that is probably very frightening for you," Círdan said, still in a soft tone. "But they want you to come back. Can you not hear it in the sea? Have you closed yourself off completely from the Song?"

To himself, Sauron admitted that he had, and slowly, hesitantly, he allowed himself to hear the Music that created and sustained Arda once more.

_Mairon..._ the sea whispered. _Mairon, come back to us. Come home._

Both Elves could see the longing that filled Sauron's face as he turned sightless eyes to the west.

"Sail west, Mairon," Círdan said. "There is a ship ready. Go, and find the healing you cannot gain on these shores." He kissed the Maia's dark hair.

"The sea is calling you home," he whispered. Sauron closed his eye and dropped his head. He stayed like that for a long time, before he raised his face once more to the west, and slowly nodded his acceptance.

* * *

Sauron was too nervous to smile when he heard the gulls again, but these were different gulls, on a different shore. The ship had found the straight road without difficulty, and now was docking in Avallonë. He stayed where he was sitting on deck, huddled in a blanket, as everyone else disembarked. He knew someone would be coming for him, he just didn't know who or when...

Soft footsteps sounded on the deck, and Sauron swallowed heavily as Námo's power washed over him. He tried to maintain his composure, but when the Vala came to stand beside him, he cowered, hiding his face in his left arm and whimpering softly. Námo sighed quietly, and sat beside the Maia, reaching out to rub his shaking shoulders. Slowly, Námo's gentle touch eased Sauron's fears, and he tipped his face towards the Vala. Námo pushed back Sauron's long hair, carefully tucking it behind his ear, making Sauron blink uncertainly.

"It's alright, child," Námo said softly as he carefully pulled Sauron into his arms. The Maia's breath hitched in his throat, and he began to shake again, so Námo began to rub his shoulders and back again, quietly humming a soothing melody to reassure the frightened child in his arms. Once more, Sauron calmed under the gentle care, and he relaxed, laying his head down on the Vala's chest, and pulling in his right arm so that his hand was protectively placed against his chest. Námo gently shifted the Maia so he could stand, and thought them both to the Máhanaxar, where he carefully lowered the Maia into someone else's arms, making Sauron jerk in surprise and fear.

"Shh, child," Manwë soothed gently, laying a hand on the Maia's face and neck to gently pull Sauron's head onto the Vala's chest.

"It's alright, Mairon," Manwë continued in the same tone. "No one is going to hurt you; you are safe. You don't need to be frightened anymore, little one." Gently, he brushed feather-light fingers over Sauron's right hand, which he still cradled to his chest.

"Your poor little hand," Manwë murmured as Sauron flinched.

"Estë, which will be easier to repair, his hand or his eyes?" he asked the Valië.

"His hand," Estë replied. "I'll have to figure out what is causing the blindness first, whereas his hand, though involved, is a straightforward healing."

"Then let's go ahead and do that," Manwë said, standing up with Sauron still in his arms. "Irmo, why don't you hold him—actually, Námo, it might be better if you do so, since he already trusts you to some degree." Carefully, Sauron was passed back to Námo, who held him comfortably and securely. The Maia bit his lip as Estë took his hand, then cried out in fear as he suddenly couldn't feel it.

"It's alright, Mairon," Námo soothed. "She just made it so you couldn't feel anything. You still have it, see?" He took Sauron's left hand in his and carefully placed it on the back of his right. Sauron calmed at that, so Námo shifted him, placing a hand on the back of his head and holding him close to his chest, keeping the Maia's right arm extended away from his body. Silence reigned in the Máhanaxar except for Estë's focused humming as she worked on Sauron's hand.

"What is the matter, Estë?" Námo asked quietly as the Valië's humming stopped.

"I'm going to have to re-break his bones," Estë said reluctantly. "He won't feel anything, but it will be loud."

"Alright," Námo answered her.

"Mairon, this won't hurt, but it might be frightening for you," Námo explained to the Maia. "I won't let go of you, and you can hold on to me as tightly as you want, alright little one?" Sauron nodded, and buried his head into the Vala's chest.

"Here we go," Estë whispered. Five resounding cracks sounded, causing the Maia to give a shuddering sob, and to begin trembling.

"It's alright, it's alright," Námo soothed. "This is going to help your hand work again."

"And again," Estë murmured. Five more shattering cracks sounded, and Sauron cried out, beginning to whimper desperately.

"I know, I know," Námo whispered. "Ah, little one, you've been so very badly treated..."

"Last time," Estë said, and the ugly sound of shattering bone repeated four more times. Sauron screamed, and finally tried to pull out of Námo's hold. The Vala tried to sooth the terrified Maia, but lost in his panic, Sauron didn't respond. It was only when he could suddenly feel his hand that Sauron reacted, stilling in surprise. Slowly, he clenched and unclenched it, moving it freely and without pain for the first time in months. He remained like that for a long time, just moving his hand. Then finally, he tipped his face up, though he was still trembling slightly.

"Thank you," he whispered, the first words he had spoken since his world had dissolved into darkness. Námo gently kissed his forehead.

"You are very welcome, child," he whispered.

* * *

Sitting with his dark hair neatly brushed and pulled back from his face, dressed in neat, well fitting clothes, and holding on to Námo's wrists to orient himself as he was held by the Vala, Mairon couldn't help but jitter.

"Nervous?" Námo asked him.

"More excited, I think," Mairon replied. "But I am a little nervous."

Long weeks of physical and emotional healing had finally culminated in Mairon being strong enough for Estë to attempt to repair the damage to his head that had left him blind.

"Are you ready then, Mairon?" Estë asked. The Maia nodded.

"Yes," he replied.

"Alright then," she said, and carefully placed her hands on the back of his head. Mairon winced, and tightened his hold on Námo as heat and pressure within his head began to mount.

"I know it hurts," Námo murmured. "You are being so brave." Finally, Estë removed her hands, and Mairon sighed with relief as those sensations began to fade, his scalp and neck damp with sweat under his thick hair.

"Well done," Estë said. "Here, drink." She held a cup to his lips, and Mairon gratefully drank the cool water it contained.

"We're almost done," Estë continued, setting down the cup. "Lay back, now." Mairon complied, and Estë placed her hands on the side of his face. For an agonizing moment there was no change, but slowly, the darkness began to lift as light again flooded in, solidifying into clear focus. Marion blinked twice, and looked up into his lord's face, a radiant smiled breaking across his own.

"The light is back," were the only words he could find in that moment. Námo gently smiled down at him.

"Yes, my child," he said. "You have found the light again."


End file.
